Family Discussions
by Neocolai
Summary: Erik plays catch and remains oblivious. (15th in the Protection Series)


**Disclaimer: Neocolai does not own X-Men or anything related to the franchise.**

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"She's pretty awesome, you know. You should've been there when she yanked Wanda's ear. I thought the room was going to blow up cause this is _Wanda_ we're talking about, but Mom wasn't scared of her which is really amazing. Even I don't mess with Wanda."

Throw. Catch. Throw. Catch. Nod. Repeat.

Tossing a ball with Peter was actually calming, contrary to Erik's expectations. (Although he suspected he was torturing his son. The silver mutant was a whimsical blur, chattering just to fill in the extra time.) For Erik, this was training; sharpening his eyes to keep track of his idiot offspring. So far he had caught three twinkie breaks and a blip that must have accounted for Jubilee screaming about a hamster in her cereal bowl. Dang kid.

"So can I? The professor thinks it'd be awesome, just ask him, and I already look after Tauntaun, so you know I'd take good care of it, and Hank would see how responsible I am and stop nagging me for forgetting to feed the goldfish – which I didn't forget, I actually _overfed_ them – "

"Peter," Erik said quietly, holding the baseball hostage until the babbling was silenced. "What did I say about a dog?"

"Not until I learn to speak in full sentences," Peter grumbled, with his best 'I'm not pouting you're just being mean and not listening' expression. "But I _am_ talking in full sentences! You're just too slow to keep up!"

"Then enunciate so I can hear better," Erik advised. He tossed the baseball, wondering how far the kid could run in three seconds. Probably halfway to Washington D.C. and back. "Now keep your mind on the task at hand."

Concentration. That was Peter's exercise for the day. Losing track of the mission could mean that one bullet found its target, and with semi-automatics merging into the list of human threats, distraction was a weakness that Quicksilver couldn't afford. One bullet, and the kid would grow up. For good.

Erik finally understood why Charles couldn't bear to let Raven forge her own path.

"You know, Mom tried to fix my speech like that one time," Peter commented as he returned the baseball. (Really, Erik's hardest swing and the brat looked like he hadn't even budged. Next time they were going to use an iron bowling ball; something the kid would have to work to lift.)

"She thought I had a mental issue for a while – I used to talk really, really fast," Peter elaborated as he tossed again. "Wanda had to interpret everything for me and I'm not sure how that worked, but she always figured it out – we must've been smart even as kids – but it took Mom a while to get it. She wouldn't take me to a doctor – mutant freak-out and all – but she wouldn't let me around sugar until I was like – fifteen and getting whatever I wanted from convenience stores – they're called 'convenience' for a reason, right? But I didn't actually have sugar until I was eight I think and then I burned a line in the cafeteria floor – they didn't let me have chocolate milk after that. You know, I was on the track team in high school – broke eight world records – but they canned me out for winning, kind of like the fair at the park. Is it possible to be too awesome?"

"Never," Erik grunted. His arm was going to give out before the kid stopped talking.

"Mom was always shushing us down, telling Wanda to pretend to be normal, but she gave up after a while, and she didn't even try it with me. She was really nice about our powers, actually. She'd sit me in the corner for five whole minutes but with Wanda it was an hour, so at least she didn't make me do that, and Lorna had to write acres of paper whenever she talked back to the teachers but as long as I didn't get caught Mom just smacked my hand with a spatula – getting it over with fast, you know? Of course, there was that one time when I upset the substitute teacher who turned out to be one of Mom's best friends – i.e. 'before we were born' people – and so she made me sit down for _three hours_ with Lorna in my lap so she'd know I didn't run off during that time and I never did that again I don't know why she didn't just make me wash the car, it was looking mucky anyways….."

Training required the full attention of the individual, along with cognizance for all variables in the environment. With a thin smile Erik let the ball roll from his hands, flipped a twinkie out of his pocket, and flung out a coil of steel wire. Caught in his throttling of the English language, Peter lunged to catch the ball, changed his mind for the snack, and wound up rolling in a tangle of silver wire.

At least, that was how the distraction was _supposed_ to pan out.

How Erik found himself mummified in duct tape while the imp shoveled down the last bite of sugary death and tossed a baseball one-handedly….

 _"I missed the last five seconds. How did you intend to snare him again?"_ Charles teased.

Erik rolled his eyes.

"So does that mean we're done here?" Peter asked, still evading the writhing steel cord. "Not that this hasn't been fun, but it's kinda overkill and no offense but Mystique's robots are much faster than you."

"Yes, we're done," Erik affirmed. "Undo your handiwork."

A wily smirk, and the duct tape spun away, leaving a reeling and rather irked father nursing the hairless skin on his forearms. Peter looked away contritely.

"You know that stuff grows back….."

"There's a solid, straight-backed chair in Charles' attic," Erik said darkly, "And a comfortable corner in his study."

Peter's eyes widened marginally and he stepped back. "…. You know, Mom actually stopped cornering me after I turned seventeen."

"Oh, then she pulled out the spatula," Erik guessed.

"No, but she got really creative. One time she dumped a bin of crayons in the washroom – a whole _bin_ , I mean – and she made me run them up to Lorna's room one at a time. I was sick of crayon drawings after that."

Erik rubbed a hand over his face to hide a smile. Reminiscence tainted his amusement. Nina loved to draw.

"And… this Lorna," he said evasively, addressing the question he had dreaded for some time. "She and … Wanda, was it? Their father… what was he like?"

Whoever the man was, Peter never spoke of him. Magda hadn't mentioned another man. _If he hurt you. If you were ever threatened…._

Peter's eyes clouded uncertainly before his expression cleared. "Oh, you mean like Lorna's dad. I actually never met him."

Befuddled, Erik clarified, "You…."

"Yeah, she's not actually my sister," Peter interrupted. "I mean, I grew up with her and all, but her mom just dropped her off with us 'cause she didn't want to be stuck with a 'freak' and Mom threatened to call the cops on her if she kept abusing her kid, so she left her on our doorstep and walked away and Mom put in the adoption papers – 'cause she's awesome like that – and so we got a baby sister."

Detangling the information in his head, Erik nodded uncertainly. One question was still unaccounted for. "Then who was Wanda's father?"

Impish brown eyes gleamed. "Dad…. I think someone should tell you – "

"Peter!"

The kid spasmed and nearly tripped over his own legs. "Hank! I'm kinda busy right now!"

Pitilessly Hank jabbed in the direction of the academy. "Your business includes _history_ _test_. Fifteen minutes ago. Professor Xavier will be minding you for cheating."

"Why does everyone assume I cheat?" Peter grumped. He looked back helplessly at Erik. "Can I just tell you – "

"Schoolwork," Erik instructed, retrieving the baseball. "We'll practice more after dinner."

"But I didn't – "

"Within the next half hour, Quicksilver!" Hank insisted.

"Okay but just to let you know my sister is Wanda," Peter said in a rush. "Okay, I said it so no one can say it's my fault you didn't know. I'm _going_ , Hank!"

The blue mutant sighed as the boy vanished. "Ever wonder what's going on in his head?"

"Always." Tossing the baseball, Erik tucked it into his pocket and retrieved the steel wire. Who knew, the kid had a sister named Wanda. Someday he might even learn the name of her father.

Knowing how Peter moved on, he might have to give Magda a call. Just a quiet conference between the two of them; an update on Peter's wellbeing for her, in exchange for information regarding the kid's sort-of-siblings.

He wondered if she still liked schwarzwäldertorte.


End file.
